


just once

by jhoom



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Canon Divergent, M/M, Pining, dean's got self-esteem issues, soulmate!AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-09
Updated: 2016-08-11
Packaged: 2018-08-07 18:08:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7724536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jhoom/pseuds/jhoom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everyone is born with an innate gift - to summon their soulmate to them.  But just once, and just for a few minutes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> based on an idea i saw in [this lovely zimbits fic](http://wheeloffortune-design.tumblr.com/post/148435605505/au-where-you-can-summon-your-soulmate-to-you-once)
> 
> planning on two parts - first chapter is dean's pov, next one will be cas
> 
> come yell at me on [tumblr](http://jhoomwrites.tumblr.com)

It’s 1:32 a.m. outside of _WhoTheFuckCares_ , Iowa and Dean Winchester is about to die.

He’s eighteen and it’s his first real solo hunt.  Yeah, he’s done some simple salt and burns before, but this is a legitimate hunt with actual monsters that his dad entrusted him with.  John saw all the signs of a vamp at work when they’d stopped by this godforsaken town, on their way to a ghoul sighting about a day northeast of there.  And he’d figured it was just as easy to leave Dean there to handle it.

And Dean, so fucking excited to prove himself, had gone in guns blazing.  Only to find out that the lone vamp was actually three.  Three vamps that now have him completely fucking surrounded and are going to kill him and honestly fuck his life.  

It’s not even comforting to think that his dad would track these sons of bitches down and get revenge on them.  Because it’s fucking pathetic that Dean’s going out like this.  

The vamps circle around, laughing and taunting him with flashes of teeth.  Then they jump in and the blows start.  He drowns out the pain and lets himself wallow in the emotions vying for his attention.  Fear.  Anger.  Embarrassment.  Regret.  Bitterness.  Self-loathing.  And underneath all of that there's something he can't quite name.  This raw and desperate _need_.

That need reaches a crescendo until he swears he can _hear_  it.  This shrill buzzing that gets louder and louder-

Dean doesn't quite register that the vamps are no longer tearing into him or that the pain has dulled.  What he notices is that he has space, can actually _breathe_.  He's on the ground and looks up to see three terrified vampires - something he's only seen when his dad's around - and then the warehouse windows are shattering around them.  He huddles into a ball and shoves his fists into his ears as best he can.  

Eventually the sound fades, but Dean can still hear it in the echoes of empty space around him.  He's too terrified to look, to take in what's around him.  Before he can talk himself into it, he feels, for lack of a better word, a _presence_.  Curled in on himself, he remains paralyzed in fear.  Because as bad as the vamps were, whatever this is has to be worse, right?  

The ghost of a touch moves along his hair, his shoulders, his back.  So light he could easily be imagining it.  But then it's gone, the phantom touch and the heavy silence.  

It takes a while for Dean to pry open his eyes and peak out.  

The vamps bodies lay on the shards of glass, eyes nothing but smoking holes.  And Dean?  He knows for damn sure they'd more than roughed him up.  He should have gashes and bruises all over him, but all he sees is the dirt and grime from the floor.  Hell, he can't even find traces of the cuts he'd gotten on that hunt back in New Mexico a week ago.

Staring at the dead bodies, Dean feels like he should be relieved that he's not in their place.  

But all he feels is empty.

\- - - -

Dean's life is just one case of strange followed by another.  So he might catalog the incident in the warehouse for further reflection later, but he quickly forgets once the adrenaline fades.  Soon it's barely even a memory at all.

\- - - -

He knows how the whole soul mate thing is supposed to work.  Once in your life you can call them to you.  When you need them most, you'll call them to you.  Only strong emotions can do it, and it'll only last a few minutes.  But it happens.

And since his life sucks half the time, he's had his fair share of lonely desperate moments when a friendly face wouldn't have hurt.  Sam leaving for college.  His dad disappearing.  Sam dying.  That one night he'd ducked out of their motel room to drink himself stupid to forget the days ticking down on his demon deal.

Over the years, Dean's wished and hoped and pleaded plenty of times.  Nothing.

Can you blame the guy for giving up?  Assuming he didn't have a soulmate to call?

Who'd want a fuck up like him anyway?

\- - - -

When he sees the gaping holes where Pamela's eyes used to be, it tickles at a long forgotten memory.  But he's got a monster or a demon to catch.  No time to place the familiar feeling lingering in his gut.

\- - - -

Over the years, he gets enough clues.  Dean's a smart guy, he should be able to figure it out.  But maybe you couldn't blame him that he didn't.

\- - - -

It starts with Anna.  He doesn't know why he asks her - something his subconscious was maybe trying to work out - but he does.  Blurts it out without thinking, because if he actually took two seconds to think about it he'd chicken out.

"Do angels have soulmates?"

And the look she gives him...  Okay, yeah, it's a ridiculous question to ask given that they recently fucked in the back seat of the Impala.  

"No, not usually."  He tries not to react, to wince and give away... well, he's not sure what he'd be giving away, but there was a reason he asked this, right?  "Some do, though," she adds, gently placing a hand on his shoulder.  

His left shoulder.  But why should that matter?

He's left feeling uneasy about the whole conversation.  Both because of what they discussed, and the underlying worry that Anna would read too much into it.  So he does what Dean Winchester does best with emotional baggage.  He ignores it completely.

\- - - -

Cas stares at him.  A lot.  It makes him uncomfortable.

Not so much the staring itself as the  _intent_  behind it.  He can't place it or even describe it when he tries to complain about it to Sam.  But it makes him uneasy and he doesn't know why.

It's like the angel's in on a secret Dean doesn't know.

\- - - -

Dean can't really lie and say he doesn't have some sort of feelings about the angel.  Cares about him more than he should.  He thinks about him a lot.  Eventually realizes that when Cas disappears for a long time, he honest to god _misses_  him.  

One of those times, when he's had a shit day and needs his damn space from Sam, he lets himself think about it.  Grabs himself a six pack and an empty piece of road where he can mope and brood all on his lonesome.  Parks himself right off a bridge and walks out onto it, leans against it and looks into the dark, the few twinkling stars visible in the cloudy sky, and gives his mind free range to wander.  

For the first time, he lets himself think about Cas and what he wants from him.  Hypothetically speaking, of course.  In an ideal world, maybe.  Wishful thinking that he normally doesn't indulge in-

"Hello Dean."

He nearly drops his beer bottle over the edge of the bridge.  "Dammit, Cas!" he yells, mostly to cover up how damn embarrassed he is.  "Give a guy some warning!"

"You summoned me?"

Summoned?  Oh god, could it be-  And his heart is pounding, and in those few seconds he _hopes_.  That maybe, just maybe-

"I could hear you praying," Cas continues since Dean doesn't answer.  

He deflates immediately, those precious moments of hope burning as they disintegrates around him.  Not a soulmate thing, then.  Just an angel one.

"I wasn't praying," he spits out, downing the rest of his beer and grabbing another bottle.  Anger's always easier to deal with than heartache.

"No," Cas agrees.  "Not with words.  But your soul was calling to me.  I suppose it was presumptuous of me to assume you would want me here, given that you didn't actually-"

"It's fine."  It's not, but oh well.  He silently hands Cas a beer and continues staring out at the sky.  "You can stay."

Cas accepts the beer but doesn't drink it.  Hands it to Dean when he finishes his second and needs another one.  They don't talk either, which is just as well.  Dean doesn't have the energy to pretend he's alright right now.  

\- - - -

After that, he kinda accepts it.  Resigns himself to being in love with someone who's not his soulmate.  Hell, he probably doesn't even have a soulmate.  He's not really soulmate material, now is he?  Nope.  No one out there who deserves to be saddled to someone as worthless as him.  Cas especially.  

None of that eases the pain when he wants Cas so _desperately_.  But it seems wrong.  Selfish to try and take someone who's not his.  And yeah, angels apparently don't have soulmates.  Or rarely do or whatever.  So maybe Cas doesn't even have one.  And though the thought makes Dean sad, he wouldn't be surprised.  Cas is too good for anyone out there, anyway.  

He tries to distance himself from Cas.  Just a little.  Just to make it more bearable.  When his resolve waivers, he repeats a mantra of _Cas isn't his Cas isn't his Cas isn't his._

It doesn't stop Dean's heart from breaking as he watches Cas disappear into that lake.


	2. Chapter 2

Castiel remembers quite clearly when their father gathered them around to announce the creation of man.  It was a momentous thing, in part because it was the last time all of Heaven's host was together and not split into factions, at war with itself.  

As their father told them of his plans for his newest children, he told them of a special gift he had given them.  Words like "soulmate" were new and required special explanation.  It gave angels like Lucifer something more to be jealous of, for some like Zachariah to scoff at, but for most of them (Castiel included), it was something to wonder at.  

When asked _why_  - such a simple question, yet one he was often asked and often ignored - the angels buzzed with surprise as he answered.  

"Humans aren't like you.  They need love, and sometimes they need to know that love is there for them and returned."  It made no sense.  They knew love in a general sense, the unconditional love their father had for them and the rest of Creation (a love they were expected to share).  But the idea of something so _specific_.  One other being made solely for you to share that love with...  It seemed _excessive_ , somehow.  Selfish, perhaps.  

There were some that protested, voicing these doubts that Castiel had as well yet would never dare say aloud.  "I don't expect you to understand," and his voice boomed slightly, warning them that the decision was made and would stand, with or without their understanding.  "But this will be _vitally_  important to some humans.  It will save their lives, their souls, maybe even more."  

Such weighty words stunned them into silence.

Yes, Castiel never forgot that moment.

Mostly so he could wonder why his father seemed to stare right at _him_  as he spoke.

\- - - -

Some of his brothers and sisters had soulmates.  Humans they were tied to.  It happened rarely, and it always ended the same.  They learned love and Fell for that knowledge.  Died for it, forgotten in Heaven as their names were banned from the lips of the siblings they'd abandoned.  

Emotions of that magnitude were not meant for angels.  Look to Lucifer if you wanted an example of why.  Soulmates were a gift to mankind, and yet these angels stole that gift for themselves.  It was scornful, a corruption of something that was not theirs.

Castiel agreed wholeheartedly.

Mostly because he was told to.

\- - - -

He is _aware_  of his role to play in things that will come to pass.  The plan was laid out to him some time ago.  (Whether it was last week or a century ago, he couldn't say, but he distinctly recalls the garrison being briefed.)

So he feels somewhat betrayed by that plan when he's inexplicably pulled from a neighboring star system, guiding with delicate precision a comet that would later make its way past Earth.  Instead of that mission, he finds himself in the middle of Iowa.  

As an angel, he is often pulled in many directions at once.  Prayers spark his interest, especially those directed to him specifically (as rare as that may be), but he has always had the _choice_  of responding to those prayers.

Looking around this dilapidated warehouse, he does not _choose_  to be here.  

It's a challenge to focus on the little details, the things that humans would notice.  He sifts through information like the longitude and latitude, the ambient temperature, the likelihood of an incoming storm based on the humidity.  Instead notices the broken glass, the smell of blood permeating the air, the noise of thrashes and cries of pain-

There.  A young human boy, being attacked by three vampires.

With barely more than a thought, he smites the creatures.  

Castiel stretches out a tendril of his wings to soothe the poor boy.  The boy with a beautiful soul, though already blemished around the edges from rough treatment.  Harsh words or blows felt too deeply, things that the boy holds onto and can't let go.  His wing moves along the boy's body, easing the physical injuries since he can do nothing about the rest.

There's no warning before he is flung back across the galaxy to that distant star system.  The comet has continued its journey, but otherwise it feels almost as though he never left at all.

\- - - -

Naive is not a word he would like to use in reference to himself, but it seems fitting.  It took far too long for him to realize the _magnitude_  of what had transpired.  

He knows better, but he can't help but sneaking glances into the boy's life.  Dean Winchester, the Righteous Man.  Along the way, though he doesn't realize it or understand it, he finds a small part of himself becoming attached to the human.  Which is foolish beyond measure, given the boy's fate.  

And yet... there are times he wishes his father had not made the connection between soulmates so limited.  That Dean could call to him more than once...

\- - - -

When he reaches for Dean's soul in hell, he realizes he is completely, utterly lost.  

\- - - -

He tries to be a good soldier.  His duty is to Heaven first and foremost.  To all of humanity.  Not to a single man, broken and fallible.  But it becomes more and more clear that Heaven doesn't care about mankind.  That they're just fodder for a celestial pissing match between brothers.  

So Castiel makes a choice.  He picks Dean, and all that comes with that.

And though his brothers and sisters are angry at him, berate him for being so _small_  when he was once so vast, greater than he is now, he can't quite see it as rebellion.  Not really.  For surely his father knew when he created this bond between soulmates what would happen.  If he was the one who set this apocalypse in motion ages ago, he must have known the side Castiel would choose.

He doesn't feel quite so much like a traitor when he thinks of it like that.

\- - - -

There are times Dean frustrates him.  It's not the somewhat abrasive nature of his personality (as Sam has explained, it is a defense mechanism on his brother's part).  No, it's more that Castiel feels lost.  He doesn't understand this human world and its rules.  Doesn't know what to do or say to Dean about their bond.  Because surely Dean remembers that night in Iowa when he called to him.  

Sometimes it seems clear that he does.  When his longing pulls at Castiel so strongly it's almost like that first time.  There are times it takes all of his willpower to push it aside and continue his battles with Raphael.  (Who thankfully has no idea that Dean is his soulmate, or he would ruthlessly exploit it to gain the upper hand.)  

But he makes no move to talk about it.  Does not act as though Castiel is anything more than an ally or friend.

Perhaps... perhaps Dean is upset that his soulmate is an angel instead of a human.  That he laments his fate in this as he has in all other things.  

So Castiel resigns himself to being whatever it is Dean needs him to be.

\- - - -

He wakes up cold and wet and lonely.  His mind casts about for a memory, an answer, but they slip away before he can grasp them.  Since his memories escape him, he focuses on the physical sensations.  The chill of the night air against his skin (though the chill itself does not bother him, it seems worthy of note).  The muddled mess of his head that makes it hard to think, but otherwise his body seems uninjured and intact.  

A woman appears then, finds him half-drowned in a river and helps him.  

Later, at the hospital, she says she felt drawn to that spot.  They mistake that as her being his soulmate.  That he called her there because he needed her.  

\- - - -

They marry shortly after that.  Daphne's a beautiful, kind woman and Emmanuel finds himself quite fond of her.  

He pretends that fondness is love, mostly because he has no reason to question it.  

\- - - -

Though there is something.  This constant ache he's felt since he woke up.  A phantom ache, one that has nothing to do with his body.  It's there, he feels it in his heart, but it's separate from himself.  It ebbs and flows, but it's always there in some form.  

He wishes he knew how to follow that ache to its owner so that he could soothe it.  

\- - - -

Daphne is upset.  She found out that when soulmates call to each other, it's different from what they experienced.  It bothers her so much that they argue.  Really, it's Daphne's yelled insecurities and Emmanuel's attempts to comfort and reassure her.  But it ends with her insisting she needs time to think about things and leaving for her sister's.

He doesn't know why, but it stirs up insecurities of his own.  Faint memories of rejection and an unreturned affection. And though the memories still elude him, the feeling of forgotten yearning doesn't.  He ignores it until it swells to match the foreign ache he's been carrying with him since he first woke up a few months ago.

Collapsing on the floor, he curls in on himself and lets the tears come. It's agony, feeling this dam break inside him.  A loneliness so profound that it feels eons old overtakes him, but oh does he not want to be alone anymore...

"What the hell-"

Startled, Emmanuel looks up through tears to see a man in his living room, lit only by the street lights filtering in through the thin curtains.  He watches as the man regains his balance and takes in his surroundings, tense and angry.  But then he spots Emmanuel on the ground, arms wrapped around his knees and no doubt looking all sorts of pathetic.

"Cas?" the man whispers, stunned.  Not caring to wait for an answer, he's on his knees beside him in an instant.  Emmanuel nearly falls backward in shock, but the man's fisting his shirt and holding him in place as he stares into his eyes.  "Cas, man, is that you?"

"I-"

And then he's in a bone-crushing hug, the strange man practically in his lap as he buries his face in the crook of his neck and breathes him in like a drowning man gasping for air.  

"Oh god, you're alive.  I... fuck, I thought for sure-"  He pulls back abruptly, though his hands still grip his shoulders like a vice.  The man looks him over, concern evident in his eyes but a smile he can't quite contain perking up the corner of his lips.  "Don't ever fucking scare me like that again, man."

"I won't," Emmanuel finds himself saying.  He doesn't know this man, but there's a sense of _familiar_  and _home_  in his gaze.  

The grin that breaks out on the other man's features, no longer hidden by worry or self-consciousness, makes his heart skip a beat.  This, for all the absurdity of it, seems to be the happiest moment in this man's life.

"Good."  And his hand twitches and makes an aborted move to Emmanuel's face.  "Alright, Cas, just tell me where you are and I'll come get you."

He frowns, suddenly afraid that this beautiful man is mistaken.  That he must have the wrong person and these stolen smiles and promises aren't for him at all.  

"Who's Cas?"

If he had to name the emotion that crossed the other man's face in that moment, he thinks _devastation_  is the closest to describing it.  But determination takes over and he reaches up to finally cradle his cheek.  "Cas, hang on.  Just tell me where you are and I'll-"

The man disappears before his eyes.  

A man whose name he doesn't know.  Who doesn't know _his_  name or where to find him.

A man he'll never see again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> did i say two parts? i meant three whoops...
> 
> last part will be an epilogue where I SWEAR I WILL FIX THINGS


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is short and really is just to wrap things up on a hopeful/happy note (it was never my intention to get as angsty/sad as it did, so i'm fixing it now!)

Dean's blinded by the sudden burst of light.  He flinches and shuts his eyes, causing himself to stumble back and fall on his ass.  His hands already feel bereft of Cas, _alive_  and in his arms.  He grunts in annoyance as he squints into the brightness and tries to make out where he is.  

A huge figure stands up and blocks the light, making it a tad easier to see as his eyes continue to adjust.  

"Where'd you go?" Sam demands as he crowds into Dean's space.  "I was worried sick-"

"Cas is alive."  He takes the hand his brother offers and pulls himself up.  

"Cas?"  Sam immediately has a skeptical look.  As if Dean were the one whose noodle was going soft and was seeing hallucinations.  Okay, on second thought maybe Sam was right to take this with a grain of salt.  "Did he use his mojo to... contact you or something?"

"Nope."  And yeah, despite how unresolved things are, Dean can't help the smile growing on his face.  He grabs his abandoned beer and takes a swig.  And it feels good to be drinking in celebration for once.  

"Oookay."  When no more information is forthcoming, he crosses his arms over his chest and asks, "Well, is he gonna pull you back?"

For possibly the first time in Dean's life, he's _giddy_.  He wants to milk it for another moment, draw it out even if it means confusing the hell out of his brother.  

"Nah, Sammy."  He takes a seat and props his feet up on the rickety desk.  "This was more of a one time thing.  I'm gonna have to find him on my own."

"Dean, what are you _talking about_?  One time thing-  Oh.   _Oh_."  Dean swears he can see the puzzle pieces fall into place as Sam's eyes light up in understanding.  Cautiously, he asks, "And, uh... how do you feel about that?"

Dean's already pulling the laptop open and opening up a map.  He's going to have to work out from the lake, figure out the absolute farthest Cas could've gone...

"Dean?"

"Huh?"  He doesn't take his eyes from the screen as he works.

"You're... okay with this?  The uh, the soulmate thing?"

He meets his brother's eyes.  "Sam, my soulmate is a friggin angel of the lord.  Yeah, I'm good."

Is it weird that for once he actually means it?

\- - - -

It takes Dean three weeks to find him, which is pretty good considering he has _no_  information to go on.  But really, he finds Cas by accident.  

He's momentarily diverted from his search by Sam's Lucifer issues.  Try as he might to solve this problem like all his others (i.e. with drinking and avoidance), they're way past the point of ignoring it and hoping it'll work itself out.  He takes a break from finding Cas to find this random healer.

Random healer with demons after him.  Because of course things can't be simple.

The demon's falling down the front stairs of this Emmanuel guy's house when he sees him.  Dean's feet catch up before his brain does, because the next thing he knows he's jumping the steps and throwing his arms around Cas.  He's pretty sure if Cas were human, it'd have knocked the wind out of him, but the angel endures the bear hug until he hesitantly reaches up to return it.  

When they pull apart (and honestly he has no idea how long it takes for him to get his fill of holding Cas and making sure he's _real_  and _here_ and _okay_ ), it's only arm's length.  

"You... you're back."  Cas sounds so shocked that it makes Dean's skin itch to reel him in again and make them both believe this is happening.

"Course I'm back."  And yeah, he's maybe a bit too brusque.  He's mildly offended that Cas didn't believe he'd come for him, but the tone has Cas winching.

"I just...  I thought I'd never see you again."  

"Cas, I will always-"

"See," and he steps out of Dean's grasp.  "I'm not... I don't know this 'Cas' person.  How could I expect you to come back when you don't know who I am or where I live-"

"Oh, I know who you are alright.  And I don't give a crap about whatever name you're using right now, _Emmanuel_.  I'm... I..."  And he stutters to a halt because he'd never imagined being in this situation, memory issues or not.  But there's hope and worry and a million other bad things swirling in Cas' eyes, things he wants to squash because Cas doesn't deserve to have to experience that kind of doubt.  

So Dean does the least Dean thing he's ever done.  He grabs Cas around the neck and leans in for a kiss.  Then another and another.  Between each one, each a silent promise to always find him and to always come for him, he whispers the words he never thought he'd get a chance to say.  

"I love you, Cas."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cas will of course get his memories back and, let's say for the sake of argument, they find a way to fix sam that doesn't involve cas going crazy. and they stop the leviathan and all that jazz, escape purgatory *together* and then it's happily ever after (or at least the winchester version of that... which probably means cas and dean being together but team free will still getting into more than their fair share of trouble)
> 
> dean will of course ask why he was never able to pull cas to him like cas did (because god did he *try*), and cas will look at him like he's the dumbest person alive and remind him of the vampires all those years ago. "wait, that was *you*?" "what did you think it was? a strong wind?"


End file.
